Hold Us Together
by LastBishop
Summary: After losing his job, Dean Winchester takes off with his family to South Dakota to live with a very old friend and start a new life.  A heart warming story family reuniting and making new friends along the way.  Fluff, no slash, an autistic Castiel. AU


**Disclaimer: I own diddley.**

**Title: Hold Us Together**

**Rated T**

**Summary: After losing his job, Dean Winchester takes off with his family to South Dakota to live with a very old friend and start a new life. A heart warming story family reuniting and making new friends along the way. Fluff, no slash, a fatherly Bobby, Sweet autistic Castiel, and a kitten. YEY**

**Author's Note: This is merely a break from my normal blood thirsty writing. Fluffy, fluff, fluff.**

**Prelude**

Ribbons of light filtered through ragged and dusty blue dinosaur curtains, causing a body tangled under an array of sheets and blankets to flop over. Soft wisps of a congested nasal cavity was the only sound… until…

"Cas, buddy! Time to get up," spoke a raspy baritone voice from the hall. The body cocooned in twisted bedding turned over once more.

Bobby Singer knew the boy had ignored his gentle wake up call. He laughed softly to himself. Hell, it was Saturday. He himself wouldn't be up this early if it wasn't for his damn retirement ceremony. Why couldn't have the school board waited till at least mid evening for this boring hoopla like normal folk? Why the hell did he have to get all gussied up like some high fallutin banker to go to his own damn party? How did Ellen convince him to spend his hard earned box n' tackle money on this damn itchy suit, that he would only wear once?

A loud knock on the back door interrupted his train of thought. The knocking persisted indicating the only obnoxious asshole he knew with enough gumption not to stop until the damn thing fell off it's hinges.

"Damn it, Ruffis, STOP BEATIN DOWN THAT DAMN DOOR!" Bobby called out before jerking it open to reveal a very happy balding black man in his fishing gear.

"Took ya long enough, Grandma." Ruffis Turner baited, laughing through the screen door. "Well, darlin, ya didn't have to get all dolled up for me; we just goin fishin!" He beamed a mischievous grin, "But I do appreciate the effort."

Bobby rolled his eyes and walked towards the kitchen leaving a fairly amused old friend to invite himself inside.

"What? No kiss?"

"You ain't my type, ya idjit!" Bobby called out from behind the open refrigerator door.

The charismatic fellow waved away his old comrads words with a "Ya, ya, ya."

Slamming the refrigerator door, Bobby carried a half jug of milk and placed it on the counter near a plastic yellow soup bowl, sporting the comic cartoon character of Woodstock.

"So…why the hell are you wearing a suit and tie? You got a funeral to go to, or somethin?" Ruffis laughed half-heartedly. "Don't tell me you forgot about headin' down to Beaver Lake this morning?"

Bobby shoved the silver wear drawer in, "Damn it, Ruffis! I told you not two weeks ago about my retirement party being on the eleventh. Guess what, Einstein? That's today!" The well dressed gentleman made an exasperated puff with his lips. "CAS! IT IS TIME TO GET UP!"

Ruffis scratched his ear. He did that when ever he was pondering about something or when he was becoming agitated. "Was I drunk?"

Mr. Singer's head bowed forward in defeat, as if he was about to pray. Perhaps he was. "When aren't you?"

His friend was about to give his retort when a bead headed fatigued young man, still in his cotton sleep shirt and 'Invader Zim' boxers made his way over to the kitchen table, his long piano-man fingers held in front of him, ever painting the air.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who forgot what today was, eh Cas?" The fisherman commented with a self satisfied smile.

Cas's bright blue eyes scanned all around him, mostly in search for his beloved bowl. "It's Saaturdaay." He whispered. The older men grinned. It was so difficult not to smile at Castiel Novak. The guy might have been a 36 year old man, he had the mind of a seven year old. The kid was blessed with a heart the size of the sun and a spirit just as warm.

Bobby turned around grabbing the bowl and jug and plopped it down in front of the hungry young man. "What'll be, boy? Lucky Charms or Fruit Loops?"

Castiel scanned the ceiling in search for his answer, as if the chipping paint could quote him his reply. He never rushed things. Deciding things, how ever trivial they may be, were complicated to him. Making the right one was even more strenuous. "Both!" smiling as if he had just won the World Cup, he cheered "Both."

The men's boisterous laughter could have been heard for miles, or at least at the corner drug store.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Stop foolin' with it," Bobby scolded while re-tightening the hideous yellow and red Charlie Brown neck tie he had bought from the supermarket. "Every time you play with this damn thing, it comes untied." Taking the young man's face in his hands, he hooks his attention. "You hear what I said? Keep your hands in your pockets. I don't want to see one pinky out. Got it?"

Castiel huffed, "Ookaay," emphasizing the long A' sound like a five year old spouting an attitude. "B, you're not apose to say 'Damn'."

Bobby dropped his hands, "What the hell are you talkin about? Who told you that?"

The boy's fingers self consciously skittered to his chest and unconsciously to his now presentable tie. "Ms. Paaam from the Center said so."

Bobby slapped his hands away. "Pockets now! Ms. Pam, huh. Well, Ms. Pam can kiss my lily white ass. Now let's get movin."

Moving around the old rusted out truck destined for Sioux Falls High, Castiel whispered to himself, "Not apose to say 'Ass'."

***Okay people, please review.***


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